]]> http://patronum.org/index.php/archives/389/feed 0 http://patronum.org/index.php/archives/368 http://patronum.org/index.php/archives/368#comments Sat, 05 Jun 2010 18:39:09 +0000 Caroline http://patronum.org/?p=368 Ah, I always knew it was something simple.

Yesterday I took my dog for a walk to the river. The cat-who-thinks-she’s-a-dog followed along; disappearing beneath the overgrown buttercups and grass in the horse pasture, her fuzzy tail bobbing as she bounded amongst the green. The sun was shining, bright and stretching across the summer turned leaves and the soft blue sky.

I had to carry the cat-who-thinks-she’s-a-dog most of the way, for as she dishearteningly finds out every single time she tries to keep up with the retriever; she is not, in fact, a dog. When we reached the river I sat down amongst the moss and watched Fergus, bright eyed and funny looking as he frolicked and dove through the gentle stream.

Effortlessly content. The kind of simple happy that reaches every piece of ones body, like stretching out in the sunshine or stepping under a hot shower. Covered in joy, and jumping, rolling, spinning in the clear river.

I think it’s contagious. This “simple happy”, it rubs off on those around you… even when the source is a floppy eared, funny looking golden retriever and a fat, panting, purring tabby cat. I felt it spread, because right there… in that moment, there really was nothing else to be worried about. Only sunshine peaking through maple trees, moss covered rocks and long grass that is meant to be jumped over, rolled in and raced through.

How like children these animals are, their world only as big as what they see in front of them, and perfect at that.

There are so many lessons around us if we take the time to look. Like the rabbit-who-thinks-she’s-a-cat, named Zoey by my brother, but called Juliet by me (I swear she is constantly searching for the long lost rabbit romeo. She acts like a love sick teenager). Someone needs to tell these animals that they are defying the rules of nature… Cats are not supposed to be best friends with rabbits, dogs aren’t supposed to carry kittens when they get tired. They’re the most unlikely of friends, a bunny that chews her wires to reach her best friend cat, and a cat who chases after the dog in order to join in on the games.

I’ll never understand their relationship, but what I do know is that there is a lot we can learn from it.

There is something about giving a piece of your life to the waiting world that makes me feel more connected to those around me. I know there is probably very few people who even visit patronum, and probably even less who stay to read anything, but I still feel like I’m reaching out, even in the smallest way, to share some honesty with the world.

As Lauryn Hill once said:

Fantasy is what people want, but reality is what they need.
I’ve just retired from the fantasy part.

I’m still learning, every day, but I feel like this writing thing… even this “blogging” thing, as much as it is made fun of and mocked by much of the older community, is at least a way for each person to feel as if their thoughts matter. For a little bit of the fantasy to fall behind and be replaced by a wonderfully refreshing dose of reality.

That’s what I believe. So that’s what you’ll see here… Reality. In my photos, my words, my thoughts. Whoever is reading, and wherever you are, here is a piece of my life, my light, and my soul.

This post is for everyone who has been asking me, in case I haven’t answered you directly here is my official record of little white envelopes and big, pretty acceptance packages. I’ll start with the bad news so that we can end on a good note, because well… I always like to end on a good note.

We regret to inform you…

Rejected from:

Skidmore College, Saratoga Springs, New York

Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, New York

So many congratulations…

Accepted to:

University of Vermont, Burlington, Vermont

Roger WIlliams University, Bristol, Rhode Island

Dickinson College, Carlisle, Pennsylvania

Connecticut College, London, Connecticut

College of Wooster, Wooster, Ohio

Kenyon College, Gambier, Ohio

Intricate and colorful structures stretch out from the walls, like the first page of an expensive pop-up book, filling the air with life. Each story has it’s own space, whakapapa and patience created beauty in each stroke of paint or curve in the wood, waiting for the practiced voices of storytellers that will allow them to dance. I feel overcome by the weight of the care and respect this Hapu has for their history and their people. I wish I could find a way to describe in words what I’ve seen with my eyes, wrap moments like this up into a little box and hand them to others to share. At the same time that I feel frustrated by my inability to accurately describe such beauty, I also feel incredibly lucky to have had experiences where I doubt even the most talented writer could make their reader feel the way I did in that moment. The gift comes from the bond that is shared only between those present, from the feel of the ocean against my hands, and the afternoon sunlight warming my hair, impossible to recreate but cherished in memory.

The beautifully carved women who stand around me all have a story; they all have a name, just like the living, breathing people who sit in this room with me now. All of the women are real people who used to be young, who were born and lived and died, who have grandparents and family and little colorful children rolling around their skirts and arms. Their faces mean things, you study the strong wood lips and you can see confidence, longing, or patience. Perhaps these are only the traits that I match them with, but the point is that each has its place, and they are unique.

Across from me is the panel that represents death; it is where the loved ones are placed during the time of mourning. Above the space where they’ll lay is Maui, the bright trickster that was cunning and daring, and yet even he fell to the clutches of death when the time came. The faces of the people surrounding the area are curved and twisted, writhing in a state of chaos. Anguish breathes from their wide eyes and curling limbs, for they are brave enough to acknowledge the pain that comes from losing a loved one, therefore giving their people permission to grieve passionately.

Behind me is our space. I slept under the artwork that represents northern winds, strangers and friends blowing together to become whanau, to become one. I love that idea so much, Bubba says that once we are here, we are connected, we have protection and faith and this room, this glorious, precious house, can be our church too. People like you, and me, and those that came before and will come later, they can be part of our religion.

Above the heads of Cathy and Zoë is the panel that represents whakapapa. All of these people holding each other up, surrounded by ripples, like dropping a stone into a calm pond and watching the vibrations travel, steady and fluid, continuous and reliable. I love the colors, the strong eyes, the woman who stands to my right with a tired, proud face and thirteen children climbing around her. I close my eyes, and I hear them laughing, I see her arms struggling to cover them all, and I want to know more. More about who she is, and where all of those children went after her, how many families did they create? I want to know more about all of them; I walked in circles yesterday, opening up each stomach to see what their people had left inside. Some of them were empty, or there were family trees, papers, a feather, and once, a sparkling blue stone.

My favorite panel is the one over the door. It represents Te Ao Marama, into the world of light, both the light of the creation myth, and that of knowledge and progress. Steps and vines illustrate the journey we must take, sometimes struggling, sometimes stopping, but always moving. I think the marama, the light, it can be anything you want. Love or solitude, understanding or acceptance, success or happiness, all that matters is that we realize we are climbing. Just like our group that trudged up Mt. Ngarahoe and Kepler track, we do not give up, we don’t back down. Each one of us is similar, one in our search, connected by the eternal instincts of human nature, and all of our stories are waiting to come to alive.

Timberlock’s voyageurs has taught me a bit about hiking in difficult conditions, but this was a whole new world. The mountain was steep, really steep, and each step we made was met with three backwards as we were climbing up what could only be compared to a giant sand pile, covered in sharp volcanic rocks. The climb took us a couple of hours, and once reaching the top we encountered freezing winds and an absolutely stunning view.

The way down was extra adventures as we would take one step forward, and slip several feet down the mountain. At one point I fell and rolled down the rocks until I crashed into the rest of the group, safe but rather scraped up. Our dinner that night never tasted so good, and I have rarely ever felt so accomplished.

Wellington, in the words of my 15-year-old home stay brother, is “completely awesome”. We did another city scramble and spent our days exploring, asking a lot of questions, and shopping, shopping, shopping. I don’t typically care that much about clothing…but after four week wearing the same frequently washed three shirts? Well it gets a little old. We were so excited to be surrounded by lots of new people and exciting things to distract us.

Speaking of new people, our home stay in Eastbourne has been wonderful. It was fantastic to be in a real home again, and taking a break from the routine of travelling and hostels. Exploring the town and hanging out with the locals is wonderful, and I was really sad to leave.

We left early on Monday morning, to meet the ferry that will take us to the South Island, and the second half of our trip. Five hours and a lot of homework catch up later, we set foot on Te Wai Pounamu.

If I don’t blog or contact in the next few weeks, it is because we are attempting to officially disconnect from NMH and the world outside of our group. We have a little over two weeks left, and are currently in the midst of the Southern Alps, surrounded by sea, jungle and mountains. I promise to fill everyone in on the rest of my adventures once I return.

Not a joke.

After that we made our way to another Marae, where we stayed for two nights. In our time there we had the pleasure of going horseback riding, snorkeling and learning how to weave flowers out of flax. The flowers were beautiful, wrapping in the national, and distinctly Maori, sign of a Koru. There had been a funeral a few days before, and we decided to leave the flowers for the woman who had died.

Maori treat their dead differently than our culture does, and watching this unfold was incredibly interesting. We went to visit Jackie, not a graveyard, and we talked to her as if we were meeting her. She was introduced as a proud, gracious woman, and when we had the idea of leaving our gift to her the family was overcome with the sense of mana (closest translated with the english word of pride) that came to them knowing we were there to support their loss, and her life. Jackie died due to complications with depression, illuminating the darker side of the current Maori culture, and I’m really touched that we could make a difference to their family.

Tonight I am entering my second night at another holiday park, where we have spent our days exploring the famous glowworm filled caves. Turns out that the “black water rafting” is actually floating on a tire through eel infested waters! Good thing that I’m not that scared of them anymore, because it would have been torture to wade through the river in the pitch black, knowing they were all around me. We rock climbed, belayed (or absailing as the NZers call it), rafted and explored.

We're all little kids again

The last bit of excitment occurred when I managed to cut my finger after the rafting expedition… everything is 100% fine, but I did get a preview of the excellent New Zealand health care, free of charge and incredibly healthy! Getting hurt was a blessing in disguise, because I got to see a different way of taking care of people, and I have to say that I like this way better!

Tomorrow we leave for a youth hostel, and in the next few days we will be hiking Tangaroa’s crossing, spending time at a Marae and doing home stays in Wellington. I hope everyone at home is doing well in the snow, I love you all and miss you so much!

Wish you were here. No seriously, I really do...

Traveling felt weird, as if entering into a time machine instead of an airplane. The six hour plane to LA felt like days, and the 13 hour plane to New Zealand seemed lost between Michael Jackson movies and fuzzy dreams. We spent the next few days exploring the city, adjusting to jet lag, and learning all about a little thing called perspective.

On our maps, New Zealand barely shows up. It’s way down there, barely hiding beneath Australia, the “last stop on the way to the south pole”. Here, it’s a little different. America is the far away land, where wonders and myths take root. Have you ever seen someone get shot? Is it like High School Musical and Mean Girls? Are there cliques and drama and matching clothes and songs and guns? They ask these questions with wide eyes and complete sincerity, marveling at the world they saw on TV. Never before have I been so aware of the perspective that the media sends out to the world.

Auckland was awesome. Clean and beautiful, it’s steep roads snaked up into the hills and back down to the ocean, piercing the sky with a silver sky tower and marking the seas with a thousand sail boats. The City of Sails, as it is known, was a place where people would bend down and pick up trash on the ground, instead of adding to it. Different from New York or Boston? Just a tiny bit…

The next two days were spent staying at this gorgeous Marae. We were met with a formal Powhiri (welcome), where we had to give a speech, sing, and present ourselves in the most vulnerable way possible, with a hongi. The sharing of breath and the touching of noses, or sometimes it’s in the form of a simple kiss on the cheek, represent the Maori’s way of seeing you, not just the way you look, but who you are. After that moment, you become family.

And family, we were. The children would hang on us and ask us questions, pulling at our clothing and speaking freely in their sweet New Zealand accents. One of the children, Lateal, slept on my mattress the first night after begging her mother to let her have a slumber party with us. Bright and spunky, Lateal never failed to give us her own opinions on everything around us.

Many more stories have taken place, scenes and images that would take a thousand words to explain when I only have as long as my store bought internet card will allow, so I’ll have to show you a few of them in pictures.

Portrait: Triniti, age 5

Travelers luck. Meeting the Prime Minister of NZ!

From Lion Rock, beach trip number one

I found Nemo.

Tomorrow we will immerse ourselves into the Maori culture with the annual Waitangi Weekend, a time for celebrating what came before, and what will come in the future.

To all that I love, I hope you feel as if you are here with me, I miss you all and can’t wait to see you again.
xoxo,

Time to set the standards higher. Today begins the next-biggest-thing I’ve ever done. In three hours, a bus will take me away from the NMH campus that has become my home, and into the first waves of an incredible adventure.

How is it ever possible to be ready for this sort of thing? You can think you’re ready, you can pack six times, make a thousand lists (you should see all the post it notes around my desk right now), say goodbye, leave your words and promises and memories, and think that you know what to expect.

If I’ve learned anything from my two years at school, it’s that often, things don’t go exactly how you pictured them. Sometimes they’re worse, sometimes things challenge you past the point you thought you could handle, and you wake up on the other side shocked and proud of what you managed to accomplish.

Sometimes, they’re better. Sometimes you lose things to find something better, you change your vision of yourself to become closer to the person you want to be, people change so that you can let them go, places change so that they can make room for new people, and you discover that, no matter what, everything has a way of working out in the end.

I am so excited, so nervous, so sad to leave the people I love, so happy to travel with my new ‘family’, so ready, and completely unprepared at the same time. So here goes nothing, here starts the newest adventure, the next chapter. I hope I’ll get a chance to update you all along the way, and I wish everyone the best of luck on whatever adventure they’re about to set off on.

E Noha Ra, goodbye to those staying,
Caroline